


Listen, Your Worshipfulness, Let's Get One Thing Straight: I'm Not

by Zoom Zoom (PaperLillyWebs)



Series: That Keith Amidala Au That I Don't Know What to Name [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Dignitary AU, Does this count?, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Keith isn't a Paladin but he's important, M/M, Meet me in the goddamn pit, Other, Pidge is always trans in my fics, alien keith, based on padme amidala and all the ben amidala au's floating around, meet cute?, okay so i just wanted keith in a dress
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-25
Updated: 2017-11-25
Packaged: 2019-02-06 14:16:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12819312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaperLillyWebs/pseuds/Zoom%20Zoom
Summary: “Ah, no, we’re all trash honestly.” Lance’s mouth says without his permission, and he kind of wants to die again.But the alien laughs once, and it’s wonderfully gruff around the edges. “You’re not selling yourself very well, Paladin.”





	Listen, Your Worshipfulness, Let's Get One Thing Straight: I'm Not

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Funsighs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Funsighs/gifts).



  Lance’s official purpose at this party is to make sure everything with Lord Kyoh goes smoothly. His unofficial purpose is to scarf down as much of the pink gooey stuff at the food tables as possible before Hunk or Allura catch him.

  He’s only the backup anyways, he reasons with himself, as he swipes another space pudding cup from under the arm of a funky looking alien lass, who doesn’t even spare him a glance. If Allura needed him, he’d be over here.

  The party is in full swing, the airy marble hall filled to the brim with all sorts of bipedal alien species that Lance has never seen before. He might recognise a few faces from their briefing, but like he said: backup. Allura and Shiro are the ones that have to flirt and make nice with all the lords and ladies in hopes of funding and/or alliance.

  He doesn’t think either of them have found Lord Kyoh of planet Yeosu —which is rich in blah blah minerals and yadda yadda wood, which Coran claims to be vital in taking down Zarkon— from the way both Shiro and Allura are wandering among the guests, but never staying too long with anybody. And okay, Lance hadn’t really been paying attention during their briefing, so he doesn’t have any idea what this Lord Kyoh looks like, but it doesn’t really look like Allura knows either.

  “Lance, what are you doing.”

   Lance nearly jumps out of his skin as Hunk magically appears next to him, wearing the frown that usually means the end of Lance’s fun.

  “Heyy, buddy! I’m keeping watch. Like good backup.”

  Hunk eyes the pudding cup and spoon in his hands, that Lance doesn’t even try to hide. “And that includes tasting the local fare, I suppose.”

  “Oh, c’mon, Hunk. They haven’t even found the dude yet; leave me and my pink goo in peace.” Lance shovels another spoonful into his mouth and sticks his tongue out.

  Leaning over the nearest pudding cup and taking a big whiff, Hunk’s frown deepens. “Lance, you’re eating lizard poop.”

  “Excuse me.”

  “Leetfaht is an Arusian delicacy,” Hunk says, lips twitching, “made from the feces of the local reptile population.”

  Lance slowly puts his pudding cup back onto the table. “Hunk, you know I love you, but if you are fucking with me—”

  Hunk pats his shoulder. “You’re just lucky you steered clear of the Crapnuk claws: they’re poisonous to humans.” He takes Lance by the arm and steers him away from the banquet tables and into the crowd. “And don’t call Lord Kyoh ‘dude’, he’s the ruler of three systems; his army would have given the Alteans a run for their money even at their peak.”

  Lance lets himself be led, only half listening as he tries to push down the Leetfaht that’s trying to force its way back up. “And the Galra haven’t done anything about him?”

  Hunk sidesteps what looks like a walking tentacle in a dress, bowing shortly to them, before turning to Lance. “Did you listen at all to what Coran was telling us?”

  “Nope, not even a little.”

  “Lance,” Hunk sighs, putting his hands on his friend’s shoulders, “the people of Yeosu are one of the only races to have fought the Galra and won; they’ve been reclaiming planets for a thousand years. And we have no idea how.”

  “I thought we were after their minerals.”

  “There’s a reason you’re not on recon duty.”

  Lance pouts, just a little. “I didn’t think I’d need to know anything!”

  “Right, right. Like you didn’t need to know anything on Getghan, and Pidge had to save your ass from the alien lady with two—”

  “Alright!” Lance claps both hands over Hunk’s mouth, startling a dignitary near them. “No need to rub it in.”

  Hunk is grinning when he pulls Lance’s hands away. “Say what you want about your flying skills, but your listening could do with a little work.”

  “I don’t know how you all stay awake in those briefings,” Lance grumbles, sticking his hands deep into the pockets of his robes, “I can’t keep my eyes open.”

  “Here, you big baby.” Hunk roots around himself and pulls a tablet from the bag at his waist. He clicks it on and pulls up the information for their mission. “This is everything we know. If things go well tonight, we’ll probably be going to their capital, and despite appearances, we do actually need your input on things.”

  “You flatter me, Hunk.” Lance takes the tablet and looks it over briefly. It’s a whole lot of text and no pictures, and Lance wants to die. “Do I really need t—”

  “Yes, you do. Now I need to go find Pidge and make sure she hasn’t pissed off the cyborg werewolves.”

  He leaves Lance then, in the middle of the hall and with no one to part the crowd for him.

  With a grumble, Lance does his best to push towards the nearest wall, but it takes a lot of dodging and bowing and smiling, and waving off offers for drinks from people he’s never met. And Lance is social, he loves people, but he isn’t... important enough to converse with these ones. These are the kings and queens and lords and admirals that have kept the universe going in Voltron’s absence, and Lance is just Lance. He’ll take his corner reading time over telling the King of wherever that he’s only twenty, thank you very much.

  Like everything else in space seems to be, everyone is dressed in bright colours that hurt his eyes, but he can’t deny the extravagance of them all: he hasn’t seen so much jewelry in his entire life, nor in quite so many colours. Some robes and dresses sweep the floor, and some headdresses are so large, it’s a wonder their bearer’s necks don’t break under the weight.

  It makes Lance’s black Voltron garb stick out rather a lot, his lack of jewelry or face paint. The rest of his team are dressed similarly, and he can easily pick them out of the crowd, although Pidge seems to still be missing.

  Lance is tracking Hunk’s search through the mass of bodies when something white catches at the corner of his eye, snapping his attention to his left. It’s another dignitary, with a too-long dress that drags behind, but it’s almost completely white, orange half the way down, and so bright that it’s a wonder Lance hadn’t noticed them yet, standing so close.

  Despite this, their headdress isn’t nearly as ornate as others’, and from the swooping backline of their dress, just short of too-revealing, Lance isn’t at all expecting the masculine face that turns just enough for Lance to see their sharp-cut features. And they’re beautiful, Lance thinks a bit dreamily, despite the clash of their angular face to the elegance of their dress (robes?).

  He really wasn’t going to stop, though; he was just going to walk past to his corner, and maybe admire for a moment longer, but nothing more.

  But then the alien looks up and notices him, and they could almost be human, if it weren’t for their violet eyes and next-to-florescent orange freckles that spread down to their bare shoulders. Their eyebrows raise in recognition as they look Lance up and down, pausing for a moment over the Voltron emblem on Lance’s chest.

  “Good evening,” they say, inclining their head just so, and Lance’s knees go a little weak.

  “Good evening,” he manages, before noticing the very obvious crown worked into the alien’s curls, and gives a short, jerky bow.

  “Oh, no, don’t do that,” the alien says quickly, using the hand not holding a flute of violently green alcohol to push him back upright. “Voltron bows to no one.”

  Lance forces a small smile, and tries not to stare at the red triangle painted on the alien’s full lower lip. “I’m but one part of Voltron.”

  A perfectly sculpted brow raises. “I did not expect the ‘defenders of the universe’ to be so humble.”

  “Ah, no, we’re all trash honestly.” Lance’s mouth says without his permission, and he kind of wants to die again.

  But the alien laughs once, and it’s wonderfully gruff around the edges. “You’re not selling yourself very well, Paladin.”

  “Lance.”

  The alien stops.

  “My name is Lance.”

  Another moment of silence, then, “I’m Keith.”

  Lance lets out the little breath he was holding, wondering if they’d call for his execution for talking so disrespectfully. “Is that short for something?”

  Keith smiles crookedly. “No, it’s just Keith.”

  “That’s... far more ordinary that I had expected.”

  “For humans, that is.” Keith raises his glass to his lips and Lance has to remember that some species this far out _do_ know what humans are.

  He laughs nervously, tucking his tablet out of sight. “Yes, well.”

  “Are you this nervous with all the lords you meet?”

  “I don’t actually meet very many,” he admits. “I’m not usually allowed.”

  “Hm.” Keith watches him over the lip of his flute. “I can’t imagine why.”

  Is— Is this alien flirting with him? This incredibly regal, poised, _hot_ alien flirting with _Lance_?

  “Are you flirting with me.”

  Keith’s eyebrow goes up again, and Lance definitely wants to die. “That’s very presumptuous of you, paladin. I’ve known your name for all of two minutes.”

  The thought of an international (interplanetary?) incident has Lance bending into a bow again. “I have zero brain to mouth filter, this is why Voltron doesn’t let me outside, I swear I’m just here for backup, no one told me how to talk to royalty—”

  “Lance, calm down.” Lance looks up. “You’re the only one who hasn’t tried to kiss my feet tonight; I’m not going to have you beheaded. And as if your pals would let me.” Keith nods over Lance’s shoulder, and it takes a moment for him to turn to look because an alien space lord had just used the word _pal_ , but when he does, he sees Hunk and Shiro “talking” not far away. Lance will have to tell them that their acting needs _a lot_ of work.

  “I’m sure they’re more worried about you,” Lance says, and turns back, just in time to see Keith run a manicured hand over the curve of their neck, and Lance’s stomach does a little flip flop. “Uh, are you—”

  “A man?”

  Lance coughs. “Sorry, brain to mouth filter.”

  Keith hides a smile behind another sip. “Humans and their genders.”

  Not quite the answer he had been expecting, but Lance’ll take it. “Is they/them alright?”

  Keith considers it, head tilted again, and they don’t seem offended, which Lance takes a good sign. “They is acceptable.”

  They stand there, looking at each other for a long moment. Too long a moment. “Is this where I ask you to dance.” Keith laughs again, and Lance decides he quite likes that laugh, and that it isn’t very regal at all.

  “Perhaps another time. My ambassador is giving me a very angry look from the banquet tables, if you’ll excuse me.”

  Neither of them make any move to walk away though, and the look Keith is giving him is making his stomach to flippy things again.

  Lance is opening his mouth to ask them if they’d like a photo when Keith’s entire expression changes, from soft openness to dark and dangerous between one breath and the next, and he’s grabbing Lance by the shoulder before he can ask the matter.

  Keith yanks Lance off his feet, and his is brain is only just beginning to process the what-the-fuck and indignation when a sword crashes to the marbled ground right where Lance had been standing.

  Keith pulls a sword of their own out of absolutely nowhere as Lance finds himself on his ass, lunging at Lance’s masked attacker with all the grace and glory of a god. The sound of metal clashing bounces off the walls with a sickening ring, and the hall goes utterly silent in its wake.

  All Lance can do is watch from the floor as Keith makes simple work of his would-be assassin. It takes three blows for Keith to have them on their back, and the sight of Keith standing over them with their blade at their throat should not be half as hot as it is.

  “Lord Kyoh!” A balding alien with orange wine-spots and a portly stature pushes through the crowd to Keith, who is just noticing their headdress is askew. “Your highness, are you alright?” the alien demands as armoured guards swarm around them.

  “I’m fine, Gi,” Keith brushes him off, still holding their sword as they adjusts their crown.

  “Lance!” Hunk manages to break through the twittering crowd and helps Lance to his feet, brushing him off and looking for injuries.

  Shiro joins him within a moment, blocking Lance from the view of the rest of the guests. “They were after Lord Kyoh,” Shiro says, looking at the assassin still on the floor, “but that was too close, Lance.”

  Hunk taps his cheek quickly, and it’s all Lance can do to tear his gaze from Keith, who hasn’t even broken a sweat.

  “Lance, are you alright?”

  “I’m in love with space prince charming.”

  “... What.”

**Author's Note:**

> what is this


End file.
